The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts
by Gallicus
Summary: Harry’s fourth year at Hogwarts ended with the resurrection of an old evil. His fifth will see him tested beyond all measure ...
1. Mrs Figg is Kissed

**Harry Potter and the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts**

begun 28-12-06 completed: n/a

SUMMARY: Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts ended with the resurrection of an old evil. His fifth will see him tested beyond all measure ...

WARNINGS: Angst, AU, Drama, Romance

FEATURED PAIRINGS: Ginny/Michael, Ginny/Dean

SPOILERS: All seven books in the series

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and its characters are the property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author.

**ONE: Mrs Figg is Kissed**

Monday, August 2nd 1995

[continues from "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" page 22 (UK hardback edition)

He had run barely a dozen steps when he reached them: Dudley was curled up on the ground, his arms clamped over his face. A second Dementor was crouching low over him, gripping his wrists in its slimy hands, prising them slowly, almost lovingly apart, lowering its hooded head towards Dudley's face as though about to kiss him.

"GET IT!" Harry bellowed, and with a rushing, roaring sound, the silver stag he had conjured came galloping past him. The Dementor's eyeless face was barely an inch from Dudley's when the silver antlers caught it; the thing was thrown up into the air and, like its fellow, it soared away and was absorbed into the darkness; the stag cantered to the end of the alleyway and dissolved into silver mist.

Yet the darkness remained, as did the disturbing silence that seemed to envelop the street. Harry could not believe what was happening. Dementors _here_, in Little Whinging.

Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Harry bent down to see whether he was in a fit state to stand up, but then he heard loud, running footsteps behind him. Instinctively raising his wand again, he span on his heel to face the newcomer. The cold grip of the Dementors had yet to fade and Harry was weary of another attack.

Mrs Figg, their batty old neighbour, came panting into sight. Her grizzled grey hair was escaping from its hairnet, a clanking string shopping bag was swinging from her wrist and her feet were halfway out of her tartan carpet slippers. Harry made to stow his wand hurriedly out of sight, but was thrown onto his back as he dodged another Dementor that suddenly swooped out of the still encroaching darkness.

His wand fell away from his fingers as the impact of his body hitting the ground rattled through him. As he sat up to look for the wand he heard a piercing scream and turned to watch in horror as the Dementor clamped its bony hands around the old woman's head and bent down to kiss her. Harry was frozen in panic and fear, unable to drag his eyes away from the horror he was witnessing till his fingers made contact with the reassuring length of his wand. For the second successful time that night Harry summoned some semblance of a happy thought and cried out into the still night, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Once more 'Prongs', Harry's patronus, leapt from the tip of the boy's wand and belted head first into the wispy, wraithlike form of the Dementor, sending the foul creature fleeing into the shadows it had come from. Once it was gone the sky overhead was like a cloth pulled back at a magic show, the Moon and stars scattered across the sk again; the street lamps bursting back into life. A warm breeze swept the alleyway, stirring almost listlessly at the fallen body of Mrs Figg. Trees rustled in neighbouring gardens and the mundane rumble of cars in Magnolia Crescent filled the air again.

Harry lay quite still, all his sense vibrating, taking in the abrupt return to normality. He turned his face away from that of his now dead neighbour, not willing to look any longer on the terror filled visage of the old woman. Instead he focussed on other things, becoming aware that his T-shirt was sticking to him; he was drenched in sweat.

Eventually Harry was stirred into action, gingerly picking himself up off the ground and looking over to his cousin. Dudley remained on the ground, trembling and ashen-faced, his mouth shut very tight. Moving to the living one of the two people lying prone on the ground Harry took hold of Dudley's arm and heaved. With an enormous effort he managed to hoist him to his feet. Dudley seemed to be on the point of fainting. His small eyes were rolling in their sockets and sweat was beading his face; the moment Harry let go of him he swayed dangerously.

Harry pulled one of Dudley's massive arms around his own shoulders and dragged him towards the road, sagging slightly under the weight. Harry kept his wand out in case the Dementors came back for another strike as the pair staggered into Wisteria Walk. It was not easy to hold a wand steady and haul Dudley along at the same time. Harry would have given his cousin an impatient dig in the ribs had he not been still trying to process the fact that his sometime baby-sitter Mrs Figg was lying dead somewhere behind them on Magnolia Crescent.

For a long time Harry just walked with his cousin's shallow breathing in his ear, unable to keep from dwelling on the fact that, just as with Cedric during the final task of the Tri Wizard tournament in June, someone connected to him had died. Swallowing deeply, desperate to focus on anything else other than death, Harry readjusted Dudley on his shoulder and made his slow, painful way up number four's garden path.

The hall light was on. Harry stuck his wand back inside the waistband of his jeans, rang the bell and watched Aunt Petunia's outline grow larger and larger, oddly distorted by the rippling glass in the front door.

"Diddy! About time too, I was getting quite - quite - Diddy, what's the matter?"

Harry looked sideways at Dudley and ducked out from under his arm just in time. Dudley swayed on the spot for a moment, his face pale green ... then he opened his mouth and vomited all over the doormat.

"DIDDY! Diddy, what's the matter with you? Vernon? VERNON!"

The man in question came thumping into the hallway, moustache all aquiver. He helped his wife get their portly son into the house.

"He's ill, Vernon!"

"What is it, son? What's happened? Did Mrs Polkiss give you something foreign for tea?"

Harry rolled his eyes, sure in the knowledge that his relations had their attention fixed upon their child and not on himself.

"Why are you all covered in dirt, darling? Have you been lying on the ground?"

"Hang on - you haven't been mugged, have you, son?"

The only female there let out a shrill scream in response to Vernon's supposition.

"Phone the police, Vernon! Phone the police!" Petunia's voice was starting to get on Harry's already raw nerves. "Diddy, darling, speak to Mummy! What did they do to you?"

Whilst this _drama_ was taking place in the hall, Harry decided it was best to sneak in before his Uncle closed the front door and left him on the stoop all night. As the three Dursleys moved towards the kitchen, Harry headed for the stairs and the sanctuary of his room.

"Who did it son? Give us names. We'll get them, don't worry."

"Shh! He's trying to say something, Vernon! What is it, Diddy? Tell Mummy!"

Dudley's voice cut across the silence and caused Harry to grind to a halt, a foot frozen in place on the first step of the stairs. "_Him._"

'BOY!' Vernon was all noise. 'COME HERE!'

The Boy-Who-Lived returned to face the Dursleys in the kitchen. Vernon was all intent to maim. "What have you done to my son?"

"Nothing," tried Harry, not really expecting his Uncle to believe him.

Petunia turned to the other potential source of information about what had taken place, removing vomit from Dudley's clothes as she asked him, "What did he do you to you, Diddy? Was it — was it you-know-what, darling? Did he use — his _thing_?"

Dudley nodded, which Harry knew was more than enough to condemn him in the eyes of his relatives. He tried to protest anyway, "I didn't! I didn't do anything to him, it wasn't me, it was —"

Petunia wasn't listening, having broken into a wail and Vernon looked ready to pop Harry one with his raised fists. His Uncle however was stopped by the arrival of an owl which swooped into the kitchen, dropped a letter at Harry's feet, and then exited in the same manner. Vernon cursed the animal in it's wake, sliding the kitchen window shut with an almighty slam. Harry meanwhile had taken to opening and reading the important looking missive.

_Dear Mr Potter_

_We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine, and again at twenty-five minutes past nine, this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle._

_The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand._

_As you have already received an official warning for a previous offence under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on the twelfth of August._

_Hoping you are well,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

_Ministry of Magic_

Harry had only just started reading the letter for a second time when he found it ripped from his hands and dashed ot the floor by Vernon who proceeded to land a punch on Harry's left shoulder. He staggered back under the blow, barely catching his Uncle's words. "Attack Dudley will you? Going to kill him like you did Mrs Figg? Knew we should have smothered you when we found you on the doorstep."

With his Uncle winding up to inflict more damage, Harry knew he had only one course of action and that was to flee. Especially if people were coming to destroy his wand. Vernon pursued him out of the kitchen and into the hallway, Harry able to open the front door and run out onto Privet Lane before his Uncle cornered him. The pair had ignored the sharp cracking sound from the kitchen and Petunia's startled cry. Wand out, Harry run down the lane, narrowly avoiding being hit in the head by a garden gnome which his Uncle had thrown after him. As he ran he could hear Vernon yelling at him to never bother coming back.

Harry exploded onto Magnolia Crescent, wand in his right hand, which was held in an almost James Bond-like pose in order to cradle his badly smarting left arm that Uncle Vernon had inflicted his own brand of behaviour management upon. His breathing laboured, Harry paused in the middle of the empty street in a vain attempt to sort some order from the current chaos of his life.

He cursed his earlier need to know what was going on and to be in the thick of things. Thanks to that burning desire he had been thrown into just such a situation which had resulted in him being run out of his principle source of shelter and was now also expelled from Hogwarts. In other words he no longer had a place in the magical world and he was bereft of any means of support in the muggle one. As he weighed his options Harry figured at worst he could stay with Sirius, where ever his Godfather was hiding right now, and live off his inherited fortune. At best he would have to find an alternative means of obtaining a magical education. Beauxbatons or Durmstrang perhaps?

His future after expulsion however wasn't at the top of Harry's list of immediate concerns, nor was the injured arm he was currently sporting. It was the fact that he had failed to scare off the Dementor that had killed Mrs Figg and that the stars had fled from Magnolia Crescent. That same sad, dark feeling that Harry had associated with the presence of Dementors, ever since his encounter with them on the Hogwarts Express at the start of his third year, was creeping back into his bones. His grip on his wand tightened instinctively in preparation for the third attack of the evening.

As the street lamps guttered under the influence of the approaching Dementor, Harry again searched for a happy memory with which to combat the Dementor's aura. Left arm throbbing with pain Harry raised his right, wand pointed out into the growing darkness. This was the third attack and the only common element in each was Harry himself, which told Harry one important thing. That he was the target of these attacks. Had Voldemort finally decided to openly attack after a summer of no news?

At first Harry was caught off guard as the Dementor finally swept at him from the far left of his peripheral vision, swimming out of the swampy blackness that Magnolia Crescent had become. As he span, pivoting on his heels, Harry briefly wondered how many times this night he might have ot defend himself from a Dementor attack. With the entire damned creature in view Harry stabbed his wand in its direction and once again bellowed the incantation to the Patronus Charm.

The silver stag leapt forth from the tip of the upraised wand and began pushing the creature away from Harry. When the Dementor finally realised that trying to obtain its prey was fruitless, it regretfully turned and melted back into the unnatural darkness that it had spawned. Almost as quickly the stars sprung back into view above Harry's head and the street lights surged back into life, showering the crescent in artificial light once more.

Harry sagged in relief at the Dementor's departure, the adrenaline high that had begun back in the Dursley's kitchen with his expulsion fading into nothing. He cradled his injured arm once more and slowly turned to the curb in order to signal for the Knight Bus. At that same moment however there was a series of cracking sounds, and looking up Harry found himself facing the business end of several wands. Ministry aurors had arrived on the scene at last.

Unfortunately for Harry, it became immediately obvious that his protection was not what they were there for when one of them sharply ordered him to drop his wand. He may have faced a resurrected Voldemort and his Death Eaters back in June, but Harry didn't feel confident enough in his abilities to be able to take down six aurors in his current condition. Plus doing so would serve only to put him further offside with the Ministry of Magic which had decided to expel him from Hogwarts. They could easily go one step further and have him condemned to Azkaban.

Gingerly Harry gently lowered himself enough so that he could place his wand on the ground, keeping his eyes fixed on the watching aurors. As the piece of fashioned holly left his fingers he heard one of the aurors cry out 'Stupefy' and felt himself being flung backwards away from his wand. There was a moment of terrible pain as he came crashing down on his injured arm, before darkness overtook him and Harry surrendered to the siren call of unconsciousness.


	2. Welcome to the Ministry

**TWO: Welcome to the Ministry**

Thursday, August 3rd 1995

The sensation of living crept back into Harry's perception and with a shuddering groan he came to, finding himself in a nondescript room which could boast little but cream walls and the bench which Harry was currently lying upon. Eventually pulling himself into a sitting position the young teen held his head in his hands and started to piece together what he could remember of the preceding events.

It was as Harry was doing this that an auror, whom Harry recognised from his encounter on Magnolia Crescent, stepped into the tiny room and handed the teen a letter and a small parcel. Like the one that arrived at the Dursley's after Dudley's Dementor attack, this letter from Hopkirk at the Improper Use of Magic Office. With the letter and parcel delivered the auror left the room, leaving Harry to stare at the offending parchment in terror at what might be detailed within. They had already decided to expel him from Hogwarts. What this to be further punishment like Azakaban as he had feared?

With great effort and much reluctance Harry fumbled with the wax seal on the letter and unfolded the parchment.

_Dear Mr Potter_

_We have received intelligence that you once again performed the Patronus Charm at thirty-one minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area._

Harry recalled the third Dementor attack and realised that the letter must have been sent last night and arrived after he'd been stunned by the aurors.

_The repetition of this serious breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery now leaves us with little choice but to forcibly detain you at the Ministry of Magic till the previously scheduled disciplinary hearing on the twelfth of August._

_With kind thoughts,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

_Ministry of Magic_

Harry stared long and hard at the letter which explained his treatment at the hands of the aurors and the room within which he currently found himself. He was obviously considered a security risk at the moment and too dangerous to be left without supervision. Opening the accompanying parcel revealed to the teenaged wizard the two broken halves of his wand. Looking at the snapped tool Harry couldn't help but think back to his visit to Ollivander's when he originally obtained the wand. Mr Ollivander had claimed that the brother of his wand had been used for great, but terrible, things and that great things were expected from him also. Did his current situation qualify as great? mused Harry.

Slipping the letter and pieces of his wand into the pocket of his oversized trousers Harry lay back on the hard bench that constituted the room's only furniture, pillowing his head in the palms of his hands. He wasn't sure how long he had lain like that, but was sure that for some of the time he had been asleep. Now somewhat more awake than he had been when he'd received the letter, Harry pondered just how his friends might be reacting to the news of his arrest and detention. If they knew. For all Harry knew, no one other than a handful at the Ministry might even know he was here.

After another lengthy wait of nothing but looking at wall, something Harry had no issue with thanks to his many periods of captivity under the guardianship of the Dursleys, the monotony was broken by the arrival of not only a very basic meal which Harry assumed passed for breakfast, but also the arrival of Cornelius Fudge who was current Minister of Magic.

Accompanying the Minister was a larger, squat woman whom Harry could only assume was the magical offspring of a human and a toad. Her pink cardigan did her no favoured either as far as Harry's limited dress sense could tell. Behind the pair was Percy Weasley, which told Harry that if the Weasley's didn't already know of his predicament then they soon would, clutching a notepad and quill and wearing a serious look on his face.

"This is no good," began Fudge as Harry sat up to look at his guests. "I don't think there is much I can do for you in the light of your repeated defiance of wizarding law, Harry, or your blatant attention seeking behaviour in asserting the ridiculous notion that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has somehow returned from beyond the grave."

Harry stared at Fudge in amazed disbelief at this last statement, unable to quite grasp that the Minister was still clinging to the idea that Voldemort had indeed returned. His brain kicked into high gear and his finally realised why the Daily Prophet had made no mention of Voldemort's return in June, or of the Death Eaters that had returned to his service.

"But he has returned," protested Harry, his mouth not quite up to speed with his brain.

"Hem, hem," interrupted the large woman to Fudge's left.

"Ah, yes!" cried Fudge. "Now, Harry, this is Delores Umbridge, my Under-secretary, and I understand you already know Mr Weatherby."

Percy did well to hide any irritation he might hold towards his new boss over the error of his name, keeping himself to a polite, but distant, nod.

"As I way saying," went on the Minister, "Aside from your lies at the end of the Tri Wizard Championship, you have to face the charge of repeated violations of the underage magic decree. As such, you face expulsion from Hogwarts should the tribunal decide against you. I know that may seem like an extreme reaction, Harry, but we can't let your behaviour corrupt that of the other students you see."

"I think it best," added Umbridge in her sickly sweet tones, "that we leave you now to think about your misadventures. I am afraid that in order to safeguard your trial from potential outside manipulation by powerful wizards, that you will not be allowed visitors other than Minister of myself until after the hearing."

The three began to leave, Percy pausing only long enough to hand Harry a sheet that outlined his arrest and incarceration and the reasons for such action. Harry wanted to protest that it was over-the-top and extreme, but since he had little knowledge of wizarding law he didn't see the point in trying to argue at this stage. He could only hope that someone like Mr Weasley would be able to help him somehow.

Harry settled back on the low bench, leaning back against the wall and drawing his knees up to his chin. He'd felt alone before, being the odd one out in the Dursley household for fourteen years had taught him much about loneliness. The mantle of the Boy-Who-Lived was an added example of being alone, singled out and isolated at school for something he hardly remembered. Yes, he had Hermione and Ron as friends, but he did wonder if they really understood just how lonely he felt sometimes. Ron's behaviour during the first task of the Tri Wizard Tournament suggested that Ron didn't really know.

Friday, August 4th 1995

The boy woke with a start, whispy images of torches and corridors floating away like a morning mist. Harry wondered if he was dreaming about Hogwarts now that the potential existed for him to never set foot in the place again. He found that he was still sitting with his back pressed up against the wall, head on his knees and realised that he had fallen asleep in such a position. Not that he wasn't used to it after numerous years inside his tiny cupboard.

Harry's reason for waking became quickly apparent when he lifted his head to see the bland face of an auror looking down at him. The man in question held out a tray that had something that presumably passed for food heaped upon it. Harry took the tray and set it down in front of himself and auror returned to the door of the room.

"Madame Umbridge will be down to visit you in a few minutes Mr Potter," sniffed the auror disdainfully before leaving, the door closing with a series of heavy thumps that told Harry that the room had been locked in some manner.

Harry poked the 'food' with the provided fork and wondered just what it was supposed to be as he didn't recognise it, not even after many years of cooking breakfasts for the Durleys. He tried eating some of what had been offered, however grudgingly, but found the food unpalatable. Harry had to wonder just how long he'd been asleep for and was frustrated that he had no means of recording the passage of time since his watch had been ruined during the Tri Wizard Championship and he had yet to replace it. He wondered if he'd sleep longer than he normally did because of the stunner he'd been on the receiving end of.

That he couldn't recall what the side effects of a stunner were had Harry tasking himself with learning more this coming school year, should he not be expelled. At least, he thought with a small grin, Hermione would be pleased since nothing she'd said or done had managed to get him to take his school work more seriously. Harry's train of thought was interrupted by the sounds of the door opening, it swinging open to reveal the promised visit from Umbridge.

She stepped in, clutching a small pink bag, and told the auror behind her to shut the door behind her, which he did so. This left Harry in his tiny room with the strange woman. She pulled out her wand and conjured a table and two chairs, sitting down in the one closest to the door. She gestured for Harry to sit in the other and, abandoning the plate of food he took it. Umbridge frowned.

"Mr Potter, I certainly hope that you are not rejecting the food we have so graciously provided for you simply to spite the Ministry."

"No, Ma'am," replied Harry.

"So why do you not eat?"

"It doesn't taste very nice," argued Harry.

Umbridge put on a face like she'd been struck with something. "You will eat it, Mr Potter, or you will go without."

Harry reluctantly got back up and shuffled to the bench, where he picked up the plate of food and brought it back to the table. Once he was seated again Umbridge took a good long look at him and so Harry returned the favour. The woman looked even less appealing up close, her choice of clothing, the pink cardigan again, was doing nothing but making her look oddly like a frog in a pink cardigan.

"Now, Mr Potter, I am here to see if we can resolve your issues with the Ministry before we reach the hearing," explained Umbridge in her sugary tone of voice.

Harry took a mouthful of the food and gulped it down, trying hard to suppress his urge to gag.

"My issues?" he finally asked.

"Yes, Mr Potter. Your disgraceful disregard for the laws that govern our society and keep it protected from muggles, as well as your blatant scare mongering with your outrageous lie that You-Know-Who has returned from the dead. As if you could have come up with a more improbable story!"

"But he is back," argued Harry.

Umbridge got a steely look in her eyes and reached down to the small pink bag she'd put down by her feet. From it she pulled several sheets of parchment which she pushed in front of Harry, who'd shoved his plate of food to the side. Then the woman produced a quill which she waved about a bit.

"You seem quite insistent on that point, Mr Potter," she sneered.

She put the quill down on the table and pointed to the parchment. "If you wish to hold to your obvious lie then I suggest you write down in your own words just why you claim that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned. I'm sure it will make for amusing reading."

Harry scowled at her jabs and snatched up the quill. Perhaps the annoying woman would believe him if he was willing to sign his name to a written statement. He gave Umbridge a short look.

"What are you waiting for, Mr Potter? Or are you willing to admit you've been lying?"

"No," ground out Harry through clenched teeth, "I'm waiting for some ink with which to write."

"Oh, you silly boy. That quill you hold is a special one. You won't be needing ink for it."

The look on Umbridge's face was enough to send a shiver down Harry's spine and he looked down at the parchment so that he didn't have to see it any longer. The Under-secretary seemed to be deriving an awful lot of enjoyment out of Harry's current predicament and he had to wonder why.

"Fine," Harry eventually bit out and he placed the quill on the parchment and began to write what he hoped would be a convincing statement. At least then it would get him off the hook for some of the charges the Ministry was levelling at him.

After a few seconds of dry scratching Harry felt a stinging pain on the back of his hand and saw fine lines being carves into it, just as the words he'd tried to write had formed on the parchment in what appeared to be red ink. He blinked before realising that it wasn't ink, but blood. His blood. His head snapped up and he fixed Umbridge with an astonished look.

"Don't look at me like that, Mr Potter. If you are so willing to back up what you say as being true, then writing out your statement in your own blood should be no burden at all."

Her teeth glittered like that of a shark's. "But, on the other hand, if you don't feel up two writing your statement then I'm willing to have you sign this one with regular ink."

Here the toady woman pushed and prewritten sheet in front of Harry and he scanned it with his eyes. To Harry it essentially was a confession, admitting that he'd lied about Voldemort's resurrection, about Sirius' innocence and the fact that Wormtail was still alive. It even ended with a statement endorsing Fudge and the great work he was doing for wizarding Britain.

Harry dashed the parchment to the floor. "I'm not going to sign that bunch of lies," he hissed.

Umbridge smiled sweetly at him. "Then, I suggest you make a good start on your own statement." Her head nodded at the quill and sheet before him.

Harry settled for glaring at her and, slowly and very painfully, began to write out his own statement of events about Voldemort and his resurrection in the cemetery of Little Hangton. The sensation of the quill invisibly cutting into the skin of his hand was pure torture, leaving the hand sore and an angry red colour.

For the next hour, as Harry worked on the statement bit by bit, Umbridge watched on impassively. Finally Harry felt he was finished and signed the statement before putting the quill down and pushing the parchment towards Umbridge.

"Done," he said. "Give it to the Minister."

The woman put the quill away while Harry cradled his injured hand. He then made a great deal of reading his statement which she then abandoned on the table top.

"Unacceptable, Mr Potter," she said coldly as she flicked her wand. "Incendio!"

The parchment that Harry had worked so hard on went up in a burst of flames. Harry couldn't help but gape open mouthed at what Umbridge had just done. She then flicked her wand again as she stood up and the table and two chair vanished, Harry tumbling awkwardly onto his arse.

Picking up her pink bag she walked to the door and knocked. "I shall return tomorrow , Mr Potter, and we shall see if you are little more amenable then to doing things the _right_ way."

An auror opened the door to the room and Umbridge exited, leaving Harry on the floor with his hurting hand and voice in his head screaming 'why?'


	3. The Inquisition

**THREE: The Inquisition**

Friday, August 11th 1995

The eleventh of August dawned the same as the previous week and a bit had for Harry, the fifteen-year-old opening his eyes to the horrible of-white walls of his detention cell within the bounds of the ministry. He had been stuck within this room since his arrest by aurors during his flight from number 4 Privet Drive. He'd had very few visitors, and almost all of those had been aurors dropping off the occasional poor meal for him to eat. It was almost like being back with the Dursleys in his second year when they'd put bars over his bedroom window and locks on the door.

Idly he rubbed at his right hand with his left, the cuts from the quill Umbridge had had him use still not healed properly leaving behind small weeping sores. Since her first visit, she'd tried to either have him sign the Ministry approved 'confession' or goad him into writing a new statement using that accursed quill. He'd tried it only once more and after witnessing her burn that one too he'd not volunteered to write another. Fudge had visited almost as often, usually with Percy in tow, and had tried to convince Harry through conversation that it was in his best interests to give up his 'ridiculous' notion that Voldemort had returned. Harry hadn't seen much television in his short life, but even he recognised the good cop/bad cop routine that Fudge and Umbridge were indulging in. As a result Harry refused to budge.

Harry didn't really expect today to be any different, as after all the hearing wasn't till tomorrow if Harry was judging the passage of time correctly. However, instead of the meagre meal that usually passed for his morning meal, the eleventh of August brought the return of Corneilus Fudge and his Under-secretary Umbridge. Harry have never been that fond of Fudge, especially after his denial of Voldemort's return in June, but Umbridge gave him the creeps with the way she looked at him and her unrestrained glee at the pain she'd inflicted on him. The unwelcome pair were accompanied by four aurors, their wands already drawn.

"We are here, Mr Potter, to escort you to your disciplinary hearing," explained the Minister of Magic.

"But, I thought that it was scheduled for tomorrow," questioned Harry, drawing a dark glare from Delores Umbridge.

"Indeed, Mr Potter, but in order to circumvent the machinations of Dumbledore's futile attempts to shield you from the justice of the wizarding world, the hearing has been brought forward to today."

"Then Professor Dumbledore knows that I am here?"

"Of course he does, stupid boy! Your arrest made the front page of the _Daily Prophet_!" Umbridge looked particularly delighted to impart that piece of news.

"Everyone knows?"

"Indeed," remarked Fudge. "You are lucky that we are having a closed session for your own protection, otherwise you would have to put up with abuse from the public. We've already had hundreds of letters asking for your immediate imprisonment in Azkaban."

Harry had to wonder at the sudden reversal of the wizarding public who'd in the past treated him as some sort of boy wonder. Fudge consulted his pocket watch. "Time to be going, I believe."

A couple of the aurors waved their wands at Harry to indicate for him to stand and he shortly found himself being escorted from the detention wing. The almost frog-march to where his trial was being held allowed Harry to see the interior of the Ministry of Magic for the first time, having been unconscious when he'd been brought in. It was everything and nothing like Harry had imagined it would look like, but suitably reflected the wizarding world in all its contradictions. The walk eventually came to an end as they arrived at their destination, a room labelled _Courtroom Ten_ of the Ministry.

The bottom fell out of Harry's stomach as his gaze took in the view before him. The aurors had roughly shoved him in the back, propelling him into a room that he had visited once before. He hadn't ever been there physically, but the room in which Karkarov, Headmaster of Durmstrang, and Barty Crouch Jr. had been sentenced wasn't one he was going to forget any time soon since seeing it Dumbledore's pensieve. That his hearing was being held here told Harry just one thing, that this wasn't a hearing. It was a trial.

Umbridge was seated at a desk of her own and the stalls were filled with an eclectic mix of wizards and witches, many of whom Harry recognised from the trials he'd seen in the pensieve. As his gaze swung to cover every face in the room Harry came to realise that beyond Percy, Fudge, and the loathsome Umbridge, he knew none of the people in the room beyond being able to attach a few names to faces thanks to his Chocolate Frog Card collection. There were no friendly faces here, no one to speak in his defence. He was alone and forced to defend himself from whatever charges the ministry decided to bring.

"Take your seat, Mr Potter," said a male voice.

Harry looked to the seat in the centre of the room and gingerly sat down, expecting at any moment for the chains on the seat to spring to life and forcibly hold him down as he'd seen them to do others in Dumbldore's memories. When it appeared nothing was to happen he relaxed and left out a breath, only to find the chains doing exactly as he'd feared.

Fudge announced, from the seat he'd taken in the row that faced Harry, that it was long past time to begin proceedings. For a long time all that happened was that the names of those attending were read out and then put to parchment by Percy who sat further down the same row as Fudge. At long last, the Minister had exhausted the list of those present and he turned to the matter at hand. In a loud, grand tone of voice he read out the list of charges that Harry found himself facing: using magic in the presence of a muggle; using magic in a muggle-inhabited area; and inciting public unrest through his false assertion of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's resurrection.

Then Fudge threw in one more charge that left Harry feeling horribly out of his depth.

"The Ministry would also like to add the charge of murder, aurors having identified the body of a Mrs Arabella Figg in the exact location where Mr Potter performed his illegal use of magic."

There was a sort of cold numbness in Harry's limbs and he wasn't sure if he could feel his heart beating. This was far beyond the worst he had been able to imagine. If he was convicted of murder then there was no way he could escape going to Azkaban. He barely heard Madame Bones asking the council for the prosecution to begin their case and sat, still numb, through their long argument. What he heard was beyond his understanding of the current situation, leaving him feeling very out of his depth.

The first time a witness had finished giving evidence, an auror that Harry didn't recognise, he'd been directly asked by Bones if he wanted to ask any questions. It was then her realised with a jolt that he was being left to defend himself, without the aid of the wizarding equivalent of a lawyer. He'd found himself in an uncomfortable position and had been unable to formulate any sort of question to ask the auror that could possibly help him. After a long period of silence Bones, rather reluctantly it seemed to Harry, had released the witness and had the prosecution call another to the stand.

So the trial went on, each witness giving their part of the story. For Harry it was disturbing because each little piece of evidence had nothing in it he could really question or challenge, but each was slanted just enough to cast himself in a bad light. And as each witness spoke Harry could see the pieces adding up to one big picture that marked him out as a dangerous, attention seeking child. He was painted as a tainted child who attacked family members (his Uncles's sister Marge was mentioned), students (the Parseltongue incident with Justin in second year), and teachers (written testimony from Snape was read to the court, describing his being stunned by Harry in the Shrieking Shack).

Madame Bones looked like she was struggling with the concerted smear campaign that Fudge and Umbridge were directing towards Harry. The boy in question wondered if she would have leapt to his defence had an opening presented itself. As it was, Harry had floundered in his attempts to present his side of events, not only those of Magnolia Crescent, but also of the end of the Tri Wizard Tournament and earlier school events. Even his altercations with Draco were used against him with his side of the story downplayed or negated. Every attempt at rebuttal had been shouted down, every statement of what Harry considered fact dismissed as the empty words of an attention seeking child.

Anything else from his mouth, especially when he'd been called to the witness stand, had been twisted by Fudge and Umbridge till it simply incriminated him further. As the 'hearing', Harry being beyond wasting his time trying to insist that it was more like a trial, began to wind down and sentencing time drew closer, the time came for Harry to make his closing statement. Despite Harry's desperate wishes, neither Dumbledore nor any other familiar, friendly face had made an appearance at the trial.

Standing as ordered, Harry sucked in a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm his shattered nerves. Umbridge was looking pretty smug as she watched him rise to his feet in order to make what could well be his last statement to the wizarding world. This was his last chance to make any impression of those who would decide his fate this day.

"Despite what many have thought of me," began Harry, clutching at the front of his stand, "I have never wanted the attention that the wizarding community has given me."

Several wizards and witches in attendance seemed to scoff at his words.

"I may be only fifteen, but I can see with my own eyes that my side of the events debated here have not been believed by those attending and nothing I can say will change that. Because of this, I will reluctantly do as the courts decide here today and hope that you will all see the truth in time."

Madame Bones looked down at the young man, in his defendant's box as he sat once more, with what Harry thought was an almost admiring look on her face. With a sigh the woman then signalled to the other bench where Umbridge heaved her heavy set, toad-like from her seat.

"It is the opinion of the Ministry that we have proved without a doubt that young Mr Potter is a naive, attention seeking child who obviously believes that he can get away with breaking our cherish laws simply because he is the Boy-Who-Lived and somewhat favoured by Albus Dumbledore. I ask that those in this room consider what is best for the wizarding world. Allowing this mere child to flout our laws that have existed for centuries or setting things right by punishing his transgressions appropriately?"

Harry would later swear that she almost seemed to shudder with pleasure at her exclamation of the word 'punishing'. The boy had to drag his eyes away from the awful sight, his left hand gently rubbing at his right hand.

After that there was much legal manoeuvring as the court decided on the verdict. At several points Madame Bones interjected the debate, which seemed to cause much anger with Fudge and Umbridge. Finally, after much time had passed in the court room, and Harry had counted the tiles in the ceiling five or six times, the place settled into a solemn silence as Madame Bones took her turn to stand in order to pronounce the sentence.

Harry had no illusions that the result would be in his favour, only worries at just _how_ badly it was going to punish him since he didn't think he'd scored any points during the hearing. He found himself wishing that Hermione had been here, able to picture her easily standing to defend him with a veritable sea of legal books surrounding her. Even Ron with a joke or two to cheer him up a bit would have been welcome. But, if Fudge had changed the day of the hearing to prevent Dumbledore from attending then there was simply no way that Hermione or Ron would have been able to attend. Harry had to wonder what they thought of him since the announcement of his arrest in the _Daily Prophet_.

Over her glasses, Amelia Bones gave a sad smile to Harry. "It is," announced Madame Bones to the tense court room, "the verdict of this court that Harry James Potter is guilty of breaking the Statute of Secrecy by using magic in a muggle-inhabited area repeatedly, guilty of inciting panic in the general population by his false attestation that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned from the dead, and guilty of defamation towards the Ministry of Magic and the Minister himself. On the count of causing the death of one Mrs Arabella Figg we find the evidence insufficient to warrant incarceration in Azkaban.

"As a result of his age the Ministry has decided to exercise some clemency." Here Harry saw Umbridge and Fudge's looks towards Bones grow venomous. "And commute his sentence from expulsion from Hogwarts and incarceration on the island of Azkaban, to making him the subject of the Ministry. He will be allowed to attend Hogwarts, but he is forbidden from purchasing a new wand.

"He will be supplied with a Ministry-chosen wand that he will collect at the start of each school day at Hogwarts and which he will return to a a teacher at the end of each school day. Further to this, as a temporary ward of the state due to this conviction, he will be monitored by aurors, who will be assigned to protect the student body from him. Any further breaches of the law or the ruling of this hearing will result in a return to the original sentence of expulsion and a further hearing will be required to see if time in Azkaban is indeed justified.

"This is the sentence of the court."

The silence held in the court room as the pronouncement came to an end.

"Till the new school term begins on September first, Harry James Potter is to be detained at the pleasure of the Ministry. This hearing is dismissed."

A huge roar of approval went up from the assembly and Harry hung his head to try and hide the tears streaming down his cheeks.


	4. A Hollow Return to Hogwarts

**FOUR: A Hollow Return to Hogwarts**

Friday, September 1st 1995

Harry didn't quite know how to handle the first day of September as it began. He would be heading to Platform Nine and Three Quarters at King's Cross Station to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual, but this time he was to be escorted by a couple of aurors and he certainly felt naked at the thought of going out into the wizarding public without a wand. Both the lack of wand and the aurors contributed to his feelings of unease, but were also unarguable points in his life right now.

The return to the Express also brought with it an encounter with his friends Ron and Hermione. Or, at least he had believed that they were his friends. Ron's behaviour during the Tri Wizard Tournament during the previous school year had strained their friendship to near breaking point, leaving Hermione to stand next to Harry alone as the school turned its collective back on him — again. Ron had apologised and Harry had believed all was well with the three of them.

Yet, this summer break, before the encounter with the Dementors, had seen his two best friends communicating with him in infrequent and sparse letters that were short of detail. It felt as if they were keeping things from him, although the only thing he could think of that the pair of them could be hiding would have been them finally deciding to become a couple. If that was the case, Harry presuming that Ron had finally scrapped together enough Gryffindor courage to ask Hermione out, he was glad that they had both found someone. It would put to rest all the bad blood that had been the Yule Ball of last year, yet at the same time it left him feeling curiously hollow as if he'd lost something he didn't even know he'd had.

Whatever the cause, his friends backing off from him this summer was just another reminder of how lonely he was, having not seen a friendly face since Hermione had kissed him on the cheek on Platform 9 3/4 two months ago. Sighing and looking at his hands Harry began to fear just how a reunion with the pair, now possibly a couple, would go. He didn't know if he could stand the look of disappoint on Hermione's face over what the Ministry had decided as his fate.

Umbridge had visited him at least twice a week since the hearing, still seemingly trying to press him into signing her pre-prepared statement that for Harry was simply one lie after another strung together. The older woman had also taken great delight in informing Harry that the findings of his hearing ("Trial," Harry had muttered under his breath) had been announced to the public. Hence Harry knew for certain that Hermione was going to be disappointed with him. He didn't know how Ron or any of the others would take it, but he didn't hold high hopes of things being normal any more.

The journey to the station had been dull and sullen, Harry arriving with two auror shadows. One of the pair had gone as far as to having a drawn wand pointed at Harry the entire time as if they believed that he would suddenly do something violent or dangerous. They had arrived at the Express long before any of the other students and Harry was directed onboard by one of the aurors. The plush compartments that had for the previous four years seemed to inviting, signally as it did an escape from the torment that was the Durleys, now felt dark and foreboding to Harry as he crossed the threshold of the one that the aurors had chosen for him and set about stowing his trunk and Hedwig's cage for the trip to Hogwarts.

One of the two aurors who had accompanied Harry to Platform 9 3/4 unceremoniously plopped herself down in the seat opposite, the hand holding her wand lying ready in her lap. She was younger than many of the other aurors that Harry had encountered during his arrest and subsequent incarceration at the Ministry, her jet black hair held up in a tight bun and her hazel eyes watching his every move. He had tried to engage her several times in conversation in the journey from the Ministry, but she didn't appear to be in a conversational mood as apart from the occasional instruction she did not speak to Harry.

The second auror, whom Harry had heard the woman refer to as Dawlish, had been one of those who had been happy to stun Harry on Magnolia Crescent during his run from the Dementors. He was apparently elsewhere on the train on some other task. Harry hadn't taken a liking to him after the stunning and had not attempted to talk to him.

Once he was settled the female auror flicked her wand and muttered a few words. Harry heard the door lock, followed by a squelching sound as some other spell took effect on the door, and then watched as the blinds to the compartment rolled closed, effectively isolating the pair from the rest of the train. In other words, Harry's fretting over meeting and talking to his friends on the train was a moot point. He had now been denied the opportunity.

Since he'd been cut off from his friends since his arrest, and prior to that the communication via owl had been uninformative at best, Harry felt as if he hadn't really been in touch with them since the end of the previous school year some three months ago. He wondered, not for the first time, what they had been up to and if they could stand to remain friends with him after the death of Cedric. And now, that he'd been arrested he would be even more 'untouchable', a virtual pariah in the school. After all, with his fame due to his scar, there was now way that no one knew that he'd been arrested and charged.

Harry let loose a small groan and buried his face in his hands. Malfoy was going to have a field day with this, and even if he did still have friends there was no way he was going to be allowed to forget this. There was a good chance that Hogwarts was going to be hell this year. Another thought struck Harry. If Malfoy knew that he'd be wandless before and after classes each day, and any misadventures could lead to his expulsion, then the ferret boy-wonder would do his level best to make sure Harry suffered and was expelled.

He was going to have to be far more careful than he'd first thought and needed to find a way of getting from class to class without making a target of himself for Malfoy. Harry would have used his father's invisibility cloak if the Ministry hadn't gone through his things and confiscated it. Harry leaned back in his seat and tried to set his face into a mask of indifference, unwilling to let the auror in the opposite seat see him cry.

If the ride to Hogwarts had been tense, then leaving the train did nothing for Harry's blood pressure. After the solitude of his enforced confinement at the Ministry, the crushing throng of the disembarking student population of Hogwarts was overwhelming. Harry was especially unprepared for the biting glances and sneers from those who had managed to pick him out from the crowd, which was pretty much everybody since he was the only one with an auror escort and a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt.

Harry felt apprehensive. Despite his own internal blaming of himself for the death of Cedric Diggory back in June, Harry was sure that at the end of year feast that most people hadn't held him responsible for the senior Hufflepuff's death. Now, given the stares and growing muffled comments, Harry wasn't so sure that they didn't blame him. Those few who looked as if they might approach him to engage in conversation were scared off by the dark looks the aurors were projecting towards everyone. Harry was beginning to wonder if the Ministry had ordered some sort of isolation policy for himself, having excluded him from any contact with friendly faces since the attack by the Dementors.

As he approached the carriages Harry gave a start when he found that the transportation to the castle was no longer horse-less as they had been in previous years. He glanced about and noticed that most of the students didn't act as if they could see the strange horses harnessed to the carriages. Harry had obviously come to a halt at the revelation of the horse-like creatures because he felt the male auror shove him roughly forward towards one of the waiting carriages. Harry had to wonder as he climbed in if he was going mad, seeing the seemingly dead looking horses.

Harry found himself sharing the carriage with his two auror minders and a couple of second year Hufflepuffs who were staring at the Gryffindor fifth year with fear in their eyes as if they expected him to suddenly reach out and kill them too despite the presence of the aurors. He was beginning to think that his involvement in Cedric's death had been subject to Chinese Whispers, the rumours that has circulated at the end of the previous school year now transformed into something beyond the truth. Harry figured people probably now believed that he had killed Cedric himself in order to win the Tri Wizard Cup.

So it was with not a single word spoken that the occupants of the carriage were transported to Hogwarts Castle. His arrival at the main gate was just as silent as the ride and those students also milling through the main gate and into the Great Hall stopped talking and merely watched his as he was shadowed by his two auror guards, who shepherded him into the hall and to the lower end of the Gryffindor table. Those Gryffindors already seated all favoured Harry with dark glares that threatened pain and Harry was almost sure that they would have carried through on the implied threat had the aurors not taken seats on either side of Harry.

He kept his head bowed as the rest of the school came in and sat down at their respective tables. He did raise his head when he heard Hermione and Ron's voices, the pair moving to talk to him. However one of the aurors stood and brandished their wand, effectively telling the two to move along and find somewhere to sit. Hermione gave Harry a small, sad smile and Ron shrugged his shoulders before they moved on and found seats next to each other further up the table. At least his two best friends didn't seem disgusted with him yet, willing to make an attempt to speak with him.

Dumbledore stood as usual at the front of the hall and watched on with a rather false looking smile as the new First Years were led into the hall by Professor McGonagall. The Headmaster's gaze would sweep across the hall every now and then, and Harry quickly found that the older man was deliberately refusing to meet Harry's eyes. That told Harry everything he needed to know. Dumbledore was obviously very deeply disappointed in him and that cut Harry to the core. He wondered if all the teachers would follow their Headmaster's lead, which gave Harry pause to wonder if Snape really could act any worse than he already did.

By the time Harry had finished pondering these thoughts the sorting was over, McGonagall moving the stool and Sorting Hat out of the way so the opening announcements could be made. The Headmaster began in his usual manner till he was interrupted by one of the teachers coughing. The high tone caught Harry's ear and at first he couldn't place where he'd heard it before, but a cold chill settled over him as he watched Umbridge waddle up to the podium having successfully interrupted Dumbledore's opening speech.

Harry's spirits sank even lower as the Headmaster introduced the vile woman as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. If he though it was going to be a struggle to get through classes with his new 'Ministry approved' wand (one that he hand to hand in at the end of each day's lessons), he knew that from the way Umbridge had acted towards him at the Ministry that with her in charge of his best class he was going to end up failing miserably.

Umbridge had begun talking, mentioning many things that initially went over Harry's head and he could see many a puzzled look on the student's faces. But it was the smug 'I know what's coming' look on Malfoy's ferret-like face that told Harry just what Umbridge's pretty little words meant. Umbridge was obviously a woman who liked things exactly a certain way. Harry was a nail standing out and Harry just knew that this ugly, toad-like woman was going to do her best to hammer him into place.

Harry idly rubbed at the back of his hand where it still itched after being tricked into using that quill that drew blood. Umbridge had tried to get Harry to deny Voldemort's return and Harry had to wonder why._The Daily Prophet_ hadn't mentioned the Dark Lord's return either. Were the two connected? Dumbledore had told the school at the end of the last school year about Voldemort's return, yet looking around him Harry couldn't see any sign that people were afraid of the war that was beginning around them.

The new DADA teacher's speech was over and she'd made her way back to her spot at the head table. Harry scanned it for familiar and friendly faces, noting with some concern that Hagrid was absent. Where was the friendly half-giant? That thought only lasted long enough for Harry to realise that he'd lost another person he might have turned to for help.

The feast itself passed in a blur, Harry eating mechanically under the watch of his auror guards and when it was over he looked for Hermione and Ron only to find them nowhere to be seen. Dispirited that the pair hadn't stayed to talk as they seemed ot have wanted to do before the meal, Harry and his new shadows began walking in the direction of Gryffindor tower.


	5. The Lion's Den

Another day, another chapter. Ends somewhat strangely since Chapter 6 is effectively Part 2 of this chapter. Still, on with the show!

xxx

**FIVE: The Lions Den**

Friday, September 1st 1995

It wasn't until Harry's auror escorts abandoned him at the portrait entrance to Gryffindor tower that the boy was finally without his new shadows. Harry had only two problems to contend with now, one of which was how he was going to be received by his house mates when he stepped into the common room. If the opening feast was anything to go by then it wasn't going to be pretty.

The other, more pressing concern right now was the fact that he was left standing in front of the entrance with no idea as to what the new password was. So Harry hung back in the shadows of the corridor and watched and waited for a fellow Gryffindor student to use the portrait guarded door. Eventually two Second Year girls, Natalie MacDonald and her friend Evie Sloane, stepped up to the door and muttered _True Lions_ under their breath.

It was loud enough however for Harry to catch and taking settling breath he approached the door to give the password. Harry had thought he'd mentally prepared himself for some negative reaction and as such was completely caught off guard by the fist that connected with his face when he'd stepped into the common room, leaving him flat on his arse in the doorway and nursing a rapidly swelling eyelid.

"You're not welcome here, murderer," hissed Cormac McLaggen, one of the Sixth Year boys, his right hand still clenched in a fist like he wanted to take another shot at Harry.

Behind the glowering Sixth Year Harry could see a large number of students from his House. There were students from all seven years attending Hogwarts and they all wore similar expressions to that of McLaggen. Harry's heart sank and he knew that this was going to be a long year if he didn't even have the support of the majority of his House to rely on. It was like the Heir of Slytherin mess all over again.

"Go home, squib!" cried one of the Fourth Years.

That it seemed was all that was needed and quickly the common room filled with everyone hurling all sorts of verbal abuse at Harry, who still sat awkwardly in the doorway, stunned by both the punch and his reception by Gryffindor. Some were beginning to chant something about Harry and murder, but the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't make it out over the general din.

It appeared that he wasn't quick enough in picking himself up off the floor as the rest of his House vented, as he found arms grabbing him under the armpits and hauling him back out into the corridor. He was unceremoniously dumped onto the hard, stone floor of the passageway, those who'd carried him out making a great show of dusting their hands as if to touch him was repulsive. Then, with a harsh word to 'stay away from Gryffindor', the door to the tower closed and Harry was left on his own again.

Harry weighed up his options as he sat on the floor. It was now almost curfew by his reckoning, the Dursleys unwilling to fork out to pay for a new wrist watch after the last had been felled by a dragon, and he didn't want to be found by Filch, lest his day get any worse than it already was. There weren't that many places that Harry could go, as student study areas were restricted to the library and the respective common rooms. The only other places of some space that the students frequented were the Astronomy Tower and the owlery.

The library was tempting, simply because it would be warm, but Harry knew that Filch and Mrs Norris were likely to find him there. So too was the Astronomy Tower ruled out as a potential hideaway as Filch always patrolled it in order to catch couples out for a snog after-hours. That left the owlery and Harry had to admit that the company of Hedwig was a big draw. She felt like the only person who hadn't abandoned him. If he'd been able to get a hold of the Marauder's Map, currently languishing in his trunk in the Fifth Year Gryffindor boy's room, then he might have had more choices of places to sleep out the evening.

With heavy steps Harry picked himself up off the floor and began to walk to the owlery, keeping a sharp ear out for Mrs Norris and Filch. Along the way he tested random classroom doors to see if they were unlocked by chance and provided a better place to sleep, but none of the doors he tried would budge. When he got to his destination he remembered why it hadn't been his first choice and why Filch wasn't likely to go looking for errant students there, a cold wind wrapping itself around the exposed tower. Harry trudged over to a corner between two of the openings that allowed the traffic of owls and sat down, back against the wall and his legs pulled up to his knees. He covered himself with his thin robes as best he could in a vain attempt to keep back the cold and tried to settle back to sleep.

Sometime later Hedwig flew into the owlery after hunting and spotted Harry asleep against the wall. Rather than join the other owls in their roosts she flew down to the human boy and settled herself on his shoulder, determined to keep a look out for any danger while the boy slept.

Saturday, September 2nd 1995

Harry awoke feeling cold. It wasn't a new experience for him as the cupboard that had been his room at the Dursley's for ten years hadn't been warm, lacking insulation as it did. That was probably one of the many reasons why it had been chosen as his room in the first place. At least he had the advantage of being somewhat used to such temperatures and thus probably wasn't as badly off as he might have been had he been raised with a normal, warm bed.

Harry awoke feeling sore. Again, this wasn't a new event in his short life, both Vernon and Dudley, when he'd gotten older and bigger, had been rather liberal with their fists. Even Petunia hadn't been averse to being physical, although she tended to use whatever she could grab from the kitchen, usually favouring the much abused frying pan. The net result of such an upbringing was that Harry wasn't in nearly as much pain as he might have been, even though he had a black eye and the eyelid had begun to swell up. His legs were cramping and his back ached from the way he'd slept.

Something tickled his ear and Harry realised that it was the sensation that had woken him in the first place. Opening his unswollen eye he turned his head slightly to see Hedwig perched on his shoulder, her feathers brushing against his ear.

"Good morning, Hedwig," Harry managed as he began to stand, somewhat gingerly on his protesting legs, and yawn.

Hedwig gave him an affectionate nip on his ear and then took off for a roost and some sleep for herself. Harry's smile soon faded after she was gone, the reality of the situation settling on the boy like a heavy blanket. With a sigh of resignation Harry steeled himself and began the long walk from the owlery to the Great Hall.

It was still quite early in the morning and Harry encountered nobody on his long walk. He would have to treat Hedwig to some extra owl treats for waking him before another angry student happened upon him while he slept in the owlery. The Great Hall proved to be as empty as the corridors, not even any of the Ravenclaws had awoken early to begin their study, an observation that had Harry wondering just _what_ the time was. Harry slumped into a seat at the Gryffindor table and hung his head as his body continued to protest the way he'd slept.

After a few seconds of silence there were a couple of popping sounds and Harry found himself being lightly prodded in the side by a house-elf. When he lifted his head he discovered that it was Dobby who was doing the prodding, a rather shy looking Winky standing behind him.

"Dobby!" cried Harry delightedly, pulling the house-elf into a warm hug in relief at seeing a friendly face. Eventually he let him go.

"Harry Potter gives Dobby a hug? You is happy to see Dobby?"

"Of course! And I'm happy to see Winky too."

The female house-elf blushed shyly and tried to hide behind Dobby, her movement causing Harry to notice the the elf held a butterbeer bottle in one of her hands. Obviously Winky still had a long way to go before she recovered from being cast off by Crouch the previous school year.

"Harry Potter does not seem happy," stated Dobby.

Harry winced at the observation. "Things haven't been going my way the last week or two, but I'm sure things will get better."

Looking up at the teenager with his wide eyes, Dobby added, "Dobby wishes he could help Harry Potter, for Harry Potter set Dobby free and Dobby is much, much happier now."

The Boy-Who-Lived had to smile at that.

"I can't think of anything you can do for me right now, Dobby."

Harry's stomach rumbled and before he could offer his apologies to Dobby and Winky, Dobby was squealing about 'being able to help Harry Potter right now!' and the table top in front of Harry was suddenly set for breakfast. As Harry sat back a bit in surprise, Dobby began urging him to pick up his fork and eat. As he did so he favoured the two watching elves with a smile.

"Thank you Dobby, Winky. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you two looking out for me."

With eyes shining the two elves disappeared with a couple of pops, leaving Harry to sigh and eat his breakfast. After the 'food' he'd been served at the Ministry this simple breakfast was pure heaven. He ate slowly, having nothing that he had to rush to do. As he was finishing up his meal he noticed that other Hogwarts students had begun filing in. They were mostly Ravenclaws, with the other Houses represented by one or two students, and all were from the years above Harry. None of them bestowed a favourable look upon Harry, their faces instead reflecting a selection of fear, revulsion, fury, distaste, and anger. The vibe Harry was getting did nothing for his nerves and he eventually had to leave the Great Hall before it got the better of him.

He knew he needed his timetable and wandered in the direction of McGonagall's office. He caught her leaving, with what looked like a pile of timetables in her hand.

"Good morning, Professor," said Harry.

"Good morning, Mister Potter," she replied, a vague Scottish brogue noticeable and her face crumpling into a frown.

Harry realised that she must have been disappointed in him with his having fallen so low. He mumbled about timetables and took the sheet of parchment that she passed to him. Head hung in shame at his failure to be an upstanding member of Gryffindor, Harry feeling like he was the Peter Pettigrew of his cohort, he walked away from the Professor and didn't hear her when she called his name.

He walked out the main door of the school and found a spot to sit down in the courtyard, where he took his time to study his timetable for the year. As it was a Saturday there weren't any classes, which Harry couldn't make up his mind as to whether it was a good thing or not. On one hand he'd have the time to catch up with Ron and Hermione and find out just how they stood with things, on the other hand it gave him two whole days to worry about how classes were going to be and how he was going to avoid getting expelled.

According to his timetable Monday was going to be a very testing day. He had to endure Binns for a double class of History of Magic, and then after a break he had to survive a double class of Potions with Snape. After lunch saw Divination with Trelawney and then a double class of Defence Against the Dark Arts with Umbridge. Harry wasn't looking forward to that class at all. All in all, Monday was looking to be a horrible day with the one class he thought was particularly interesting, thanks to Professor Lupin's teaching the previous school year, ruined by having that toad of a woman leading it.

As he was shoving his timetable into a pocket of his robes he heard the sound of footsteps and looked up so see Hermione standing at the entrance to the school. Once she had spotted him where he sat she practically flew across the courtyard to sweep him up in a bone-crunching hug. "Harry!"

Harry accepted the embrace and hoped that this meant that Hermione hadn't turned away from him like much of Gryffindor House had seemingly already done. He managed to convey such sentiments to her by talking in her ear as she hugged the stuffing out of him.

"Oh, Harry," sighed Hermione, a light blush gracing her cheeks at his thanks. "I was hardly going to stop talking to you because of what the papers were saying."

All Harry could do was apologise for doubting her even a little. "After all," he added, "you were the only person to believe me about my name going into the Goblet last year."

"But why the doubt, Harry?"

The boy sunk to his seat again and frowned. "Fudge and Umbridge told me that my arrest and trial had been covered in the papers. I guess I feel like such a huge disappointment to everyone who had believed in me and thought that, perhaps, you wouldn't want to be around me."

Hermione simply sighed again and hugged Harry to her once more. Eventually she explained that, "Ron and I, we wanted to talk to you last night and tell you that we were going to stand by you."

"I sort of got that idea. If those blasted aurors hadn't been hanging around —"

"True. Plus Ron and I were made Fifth Year Prefects and had to deal with the First Years, so we couldn't hang around to talk to you after the opening feast. Where were you this morning? I peeped in on the boys this morning and Ron said that your bed hadn't been slept in."

Harry scuffed the toe of his shoe on a flagstone. "I didn't know the password to get into the tower," admitted Harry.

"Ooo, what were people thinking?" growled Hermione in a manner that brought a small smile to Harry's face. Then something occurred to her and she stood and towered over the boy. The girl eyed him appraisingly, taking in his now obviously rumpled uniform. "Where did you sleep last night, Harry?"

He averted his eyes from Hermione's.

"Harry?" she pressed.

Harry mumbled something and Hermione asked him to repeat himself. "The Owlery."

"The Owlery? Why didn't you tell someone?"

"Who?" asked Harry, somewhat more heatedly than he meant to. "No body from any of the other Houses would have been able to help me with the password, and those in Gryffindor I did talk too made sure to let me know I wasn't wanted in the tower! Filch would have shooed me out of somewhere warm like the library since I don't have my invisibility cloak to hide under! You and Ron weren't there to ask either."

Hermione seemed a little taken aback by Harry's outburst and he quickly made the effort to apologise lest his anger cause her to walk away from him.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Hermione earnestly, "we should have been there for you. Only, after we'd dealt with the First Years Professor McGonagall wanted a meeting with us in her office."


End file.
